Catch and Release, Part III

Catch and Release, Part I

Catch and Release, Part II

Shortly after Aaron and I introduced ourselves to each other, Raj had come looking for me. One of his favorite songs was playing, and he wanted to dance.

Aaron finished his conversation with the lady in the lobby and joined the dance a little later. Sometimes between songs we’d make eye contact across the room, but we never seemed to both be available at the same time, and as frustrating as it was (my stomach was a mess of butterflies), it was also a little exciting. Like this great game of cat and mouse. And right when I thought I was going to go crazy with anticipation, he looked directly at me and started heading my way.

Finally.

I started heading in his direction too, when toe-squasher man stepped in front of me. “Care to dance!?”

“Oh.” Crap. “I…uh….I was actually…” Ok listen buddy, if you ruin this for me you will never have the opportunity to squish my little piggies again. NEVER.

Fortunately, Aaron seemed undeterred, and when he reached us he tapped toe-squasher man on the shoulder. “Hey man, I’m sorry. Do you mind if I cut in here? I was actually just on my way over to ask her.” To his credit, toe-squasher man graciously stepped aside, leaving Aaron and I standing across from each other. I pretty much had to throw my head completely backward to look up at his face. Again with the butterflies. There was something about him that just got to me.

“So how much do you know about blues dancing?” The lightheartedness of his tone put me at ease.

“Not really much. Actually nothing. I guess I know how to follow, sort of.”

“Ok. Well for starters, there are three positions. This,” he said, wrapping one arm around me and letting his hand fall casually against my back, “is open position. There’s only one point of connection, see?” He gestured toward our half-embrace. “My arm against your body.”

“Ok. Got it.”

“And this is number two—it’s called the closed position.” His picked my other hand up, and I felt my pulse quicken. “Now we have two points of contact. How does it feel?”

Um, a little bit like that feeling I usually get right before I pass out.

“Good. Mmhmm. Yep, feels great.”

“Ok good. And the last position…” he gently pulled me toward him until the gap between us was completely closed. “Is called the close embrace.”

And that is… um, aptly named… because we are embracing… cloooosely. We weren’t leaving any room for Jesus, that was for darn sure. My inner prude wanted to shove Aaron away and point out that this whole thing was VERY improper, but after a moment of careful consideration, I decided my inner prude was about due for an adventure or two.

For all practical purposes, we were plastered against each other. Everything I liked about Aaron before was ten times better in close proximity, and he smelled wonderful. Like some magical mixture of man cologne and deodorant. I said a silent prayer that the Listerine I’d gargled earlier was as long-lasting as the label promised it would be and made a mental note to get some breath-freshening gum for the next blues event. If we were going to be doing this “close embrace” business on a regular basis, I wanted to come prepared.

His lead was easy to follow. Effortless, even. You know you have a good lead when he’s moving you and spinning you and you barely even notice how it’s happening. This was nothing like the awkward pity dances I’d been on the receiving end of at wedding receptions and school dances in years past. There was chemistry and flirting, and I was emotionally engaged throughout the entire thing, and it seemed like he was too. Sometimes, when a note in the song would drag for several beats, he’d stop moving and drop me into a low dip where my hair would nearly touch the floor. It would make me laugh, and then he’d swing me back up into his arms and around we’d go again.

When the dance was nearly over, he told me about a little dive nearby that played live blues music until 2 a.m. A few people were going there afterward, and he asked if I wanted to join them. He didn’t have to do much convincing.

When we got there, he bought me a drink, and I found a comfortable seat near the bar. Dancing within the walls of the studio where people knew I was a clumsy beginner was one thing, but out here? Different story. My plan was to use this time  for watching and learning, and not so much for participating. A few feet away from me, Aaron was dancing with a couple people from our group. He motioned for me to join them, but I pointed to my drink and gave him a mock shrug. “I can’t, I’ve got this to finish!”

A few minutes later he came over and took the glass out of my hand. “Come on out here and let me show you off.”

“Um no, there are like 20 other girls out there for you to show off. Go get one of them. I don’t think the general public is ready for all this mess just yet.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re fine. Just do like we did earlier, follow my lead. Easy stuff.”

“No. But thank you for the offer.”

“Come on, you can do it. Who’s even watching?”

I looked skeptically around the crowded room. “Only everybody with eyes. Which… is everybody.”

“Elle.” He slid his hand under my elbow and pulled me off my bar stool. “Come with me.”

Sometimes you just know you’re going to lose a battle. In this case, my desire for fun won out over my self-preservation instincts; if it ended up being embarrassing, so be it. My arguments were no match for his charm, and I think he knew it. So we danced. And later, when the others said they were going into a different music room, Aaron told them to go ahead and we’d catch up with them in a little while.

“We will?”

“We will.”

We never did. And I didn’t care. We danced until we were both exhausted and then we collapsed for a while on a couch and just spent some time getting to know each other. He asked me about my job and I asked him about his. He’d just moved back to Dallas after spending several months on a work assignment in New York City, which was why I hadn’t seen him at any of the events until tonight. The more I found out about him, the more I liked him. He worked with computers, but he was down to earth. And he was funny. And we must have spent almost an hour like that, having our own quiet conversation while the rest of the room carried on about its business. If this was the dating game, I might be willing to give it a shot.

With five minutes left until 2 a.m., the DJ made the last call for alcohol and put on the final song for the night.

Aaron stood up and held his hand out to me. “How about it? Last dance?” He pulled me off the couch and into his arms. Dispensing with fancy moves and counting the beats from, we just stood there swaying back and forth like a couple of high school kids winding down on prom night.

If the night had ended just like that, I would have been content. More than content, actually. Jason had stood me up, and as a result I’d met Aaron. It hadn’t been a bad trade.

But that’s not how it ended. It got better.

While we were standing there, Aaron started running his fingers down the back of my head and through my hair. (Mental note: do not chop off hair. Forget what I said in that other blog and all the blah blah mess about making a statement—it’s staying. Forever.) When the song was over, he left his hand in my hair and tugged gently at the ends until my face tilted up toward his.

I felt like I knew what was coming. Maybe. But maybe not. But maybe.

“I had fun tonight,” he said.

“Me too.” Holy cow. What’s happening. What are we doing? Are we doing this? Is this happening? IS THIS HAPPENING?

“Sooooo….” he was smiling. “Can  I give you something to remember me by?

Please oh please oh please don’t let it be a business card.

I guess he saw the green light all over my face, and the next thing I knew he had leaned in and gently planted a kiss on my lips. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat in the woooooooooooooorld have I have I been waiting for? I felt like there were fireworks going off in my stomach. If I could reach back through time and grab 16 year-old Elle by the shoulders and shake her and tell her that the next ten years of her life could be SO different if she would just put a little effort into taking care of her body…

But you know what? It doesn’t even matter. What’s done is done, and I’m sorry for all the wasted years, but they’re gone and there’s no sense in dwelling. That was the past, and this is the present. And the present has tall men with giant broad shoulders who hold you in their giant muscle-y arms and run their fingers through your hair. And the present has kisses. And kisses. And kisses.

He walked me to my car. And he held my hand. And he kissed me again.